


Acquiescence

by pfreadsandwrites



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hatake Kakashi Feels Guilty, Hatake Kakashi Has Issues, Introspection, One Shot, Reader-Insert, Rokudaime Hatake Kakashi, Self-Insert, but also be honest, i will leave the one shot tag because i think each part works as a stand alone, i'm a grown woman i can take it, now it's a three parter AND THAT IT IS IT I PROMISE, or the first one does anyway, originally a one shot, pregnancy if you like super squint - it's not stated but alluded to, this is my first time posting anything be gentle!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25907254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pfreadsandwrites/pseuds/pfreadsandwrites
Summary: It never gets any easier, each time Kakashi has to leave.(Just some emotional angst and drama that would arise when you're married to a veteran shinobi who has to risk his life 24/7, but you love each other enough to take it)(third person, unnamed female character)
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Reader, Hatake Kakashi/Original Female Character(s), Hatake Kakashi/Reader, Hatake Kakashi/You, Hatake Kakashi/insert
Comments: 42
Kudos: 144





	1. i. send-off

“It’s time,” Kakashi says.

His voice is smooth, nonchalant to the point that she could _almost_ think that it was nothing. Nothing at all, it was nothing, absolutely _nothing_ that he may come face to face with his own mortality. Again. Only that gravelly undertone to his voice, ever-present and usually concealed by his levity but oftentimes bleeds out, especially at moments like this, hints at the gravity of this situation. Where he pretends it's assumed, honourable, and worst of all _banal,_ that he puts his life on the line, and she accepts and waits.

But then, she pretends too.

 _It’s time._ She’s heard that before. How many times was it now? Well, it isn’t like she can remember. Each instance blurs together, just as the words themselves blur together every thread of dread and panic and just about every other emotion that she can’t untangle either.

This time, like many other times, she nods solemnly, stepping towards him with folded arms. Not out of disapproval, but reluctant, sombre acceptance. She silently checks his jacket, his holsters, his weapons, the routine almost ritualistic, finishing with a pat on his strong shoulders, only to send him out _there_ again.

“Be safe,” she whispers, automatically. It’s a prayer and a command, but they both know in all his skill and experience it's one he can’t promise to adhere to.

He would normally say something to ease her mind, a joke, a grin - but it’s different this time. Instead he nods, and lets her avert her gaze. He’d rather not see that look in her eyes, hurt but acquiescing, a look that makes him doubt himself. A look that tempts him to think that he was a fool to kid himself that he was a good enough man for any of this, for a wife, for an impending family, for any kind of affection or commitment. He pulls up his mask and turns away. Maybe his expression is hard on her too.

He finishes fastening his flak vest with that signature combination of duty and tediousness that always mesmerises her. While she watches his back, she notices, like she notices every time, that his shoulders are broad. It tends to go unnoticed by everyone including her until they’re up close. He's strong. Stronger than he seems from afar. It surprises her every time too, but he’s good at concealing it. _A true shinobi,_ she thinks sardonically. But she’s proud too. Even if admitting it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

Maybe she takes it for granted, maybe everyone does - after all, she thinks, as the blood-red strokes for _six_ that adorn his back bore into her eyes and jeer at her (what an apt colour, dignified, Hokage-like, _violent_ as it is), that all this man has ever known is servitude and self-sacrifice, and it’s at least in part why they’re all here. Why the village is still standing. Why everyone in it is safe - why _she’s_ safe. It would be a lie to say that it didn’t make it easier to love him. Maybe her ambivalence, her bitterness, is what’s most terrible of all. It’s his responsibility, his burden, to protect this place. At the very least she could appreciate it, not just accept it. Of course he has to go. He has to fight.

 _He’s fought all his life. He deserves to rest now. Besides -_ she loathes herself for this, but the thought spills through her mind too often to push away - _he’s not the only one potentially sacrificing something each time he risks his life._

When she says that to him, he only gives her that warm smile and a matching wink - but somehow the scar that bisects his left eye bisects his attempt at reassurance. It hurts even more. Everyone fights in one way or another, he says, life _is_ battle, and his is just literal. He’s trying to protect his village, his home, his friends, _her_ \- everything. Of course he has to go. He has to fight.

Kakashi whispers the words to her calmly, but somewhere, somewhere in the room and his heart, she hears the ghost of a sigh.

And what is she if she can’t at least provide him a home enough in herself? Doesn’t he deserve that much? Even if he mightn’t come back to it. Even if her last memory of him might be his broad back that she doesn’t tell him enough that it’s only the smallest of the things about him she loves so much.

(That’s not to say she doesn’t tell him. She loves all of him so much, she can never tell him enough. Her affection is unfiltered, excessive, compared to his - but somehow it’s still never enough compared to his either. How could she compare to him, the Scarecrow, the one that lets himself get destroyed from the outside in so new, happier, better things can grow?

Tonight, even his name hurts.)

But he deserves more. He deserves a home apart from the home he's fighting for right now, apart from the village to which his duty chains him. One that would be there when all is said and done.

After all, she’s aware she’s complicit. It makes her quietude all the more insufferable to her. Aching with anxiety over her husband, wishing him luck and to come home alive in one piece - the heart of this conspiracy, if she wants to believe there is one, is her. Maybe she can be that ‘home’ instead, if home could be a person. Or two, she thinks, and pats that still inconspicuous bump.

“I’ll be waiting, Kakashi,” she reminds, gently, placing an even gentler, unwavering emphasis on his name despite it all. She still manages to sound resolute, even in her soft voice, he notes, and he turns back to face her. She continues, with the most angelic smile, “I’ll be waiting for you to come home.”

His eyes widen. And she does it again, miraculously - self-sacrificing, even if she can’t see it - rekindling his motivation. Is it really that simple? He decides against questioning it. Regardless of this horrible situation, the fact that it isn’t the first and won’t be the last, she has hope. More than that, she thinks he’s worth it. So he better be. He meets her smile, and his hand meets hers on her stomach, and his eyes bore down on hers.

_I’ll come back alive._

He picks up a stray kunai from the floor - rather, it practically flies to his fingers, with the skill, drudgery and monotony that only a man who is a veteran of combat and its anguish can have. He tucks it away with a similar relaxed detachment, but there’s a resolve to him now, a… if she could use an optimistic expression, a spring in his step? Almost. But whether or not it’s sensible to believe, she can’t help it.

He has to come back alive.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he agrees, and his voice carries levity with it now. One masked kiss on her forehead before disappearing from their home in one seamless movement.

She smiles, finally allowing the tears that she’s been keeping at bay for too long to flow - instead of seeing his back last, it’s his eyes.

_He will come back alive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you for reading :) Sooo I've never shared anything I've written before, despite writing self-indulgent crap on and off for upwards of 10 years. I wrote something like this basically years ago with an OC and randomly had the inspiration tonight to rewrite/add to it and make it more insert/reader-friendly.
> 
> I was originally hoping to write more from Kakashi's POV but I also wanted this to be short so it's not exactly what I wanted, so... sorry, I guess? There's not actually a coherent plotline. Reader is married to Kakashi and is sad that he has to leave and there's just a bit of internal conflict and angst that I wanted to portray and that's basically it. He is Hokage in this and I know things were peaceful after the 4th Shinobi World War but I imagine there was a lot of uncertainty in that transition period so I bet there were times where things didn't feel that safe either. Also the ending is rushed, I might come back and change this. But probably not, it's an idea from a long time ago.
> 
> Also, I like writing in present tense, but it's hard to stick to it? Please let me know if there are inconsistencies.
> 
> Don't copy, paste etc (but why would you want to???) Any kind of feedback would be greatly appreciated. (And might even encourage me to write other things)
> 
> EDIT: Oops this has a second and a third (final) chapter now. Hope you like :)


	2. ii. homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle is over, and Kakashi makes his way home.

The threat is gone, taking the night with it. Miraculously, it hasn’t taken much else, save for non-serious casualties and a few million ryos’ worth of infrastructural damage for which Kakashi’s certain he’ll have to deal with the paperwork tomorrow. _Or today_ , he amends, straining his eyes at the horizon for the first glimpse of the morning sun. Still, he’s been through hell enough times to know that if its main outcome is sleep-deprivation, you can’t complain. You can’t complain regardless; it accomplishes nothing, serves nothing and no-one. You don’t have the right. He wavered that away before he starting losing his baby teeth.

Not that it’s ever been his style, and it’s served him well.

(At least that’s what he tells himself.)

The limbs that feel like stone, the bruises, the dehydration and the fatigue - they’re all temporary, and though her reaction mightn’t be as lackadaisical as his (she tries, for his sake, but also - for his sake - she’s a _terrible_ liar), he’s used to it. He’s been used to that, and worse, much worse, since before his baby teeth too.

It’s homecoming, homecoming to _her_ that’s harder to adjust to. He doesn’t know if he ever will. He doesn’t have the right. He’s sure of that. But he’s not so disciplined that the thought of it, the thought of her and the sanctuary she’s created for him, selflessly, doesn’t energise him, even if it flusters him to admit it. The warm glow from the sunrise pairs nicely with the one he’s craving when he walks through the door, that’ll fill his heart and the air soon, that she provides without thinking.

Although he’s not so emotionally inept to think that it’s effortless. It’s not. But she _tries_ , she tries so hard to convince him it is, that he can deserve all this without feeling guilty, that she can cope with all the fear and the aftercare, that he’s worth it, that she thinks nothing of it, until he has to pretend he believes it. For her sake. For his, too. It’s the only way he can begin to accept it.

She’s a miracle, after all.

(He’s had no one to come home to since before he lost all his baby teeth.)

With an undetectable haste, he turns on his tired heel and heads home. The villagers’ voices, full of the excited, animated chatter that follows the adrenaline of nights like tonight, surround him. He reluctantly accepts the gratitude and smiles from ninja and civilians alike, with the humility and charisma he’s praised for, deflecting compliments and reverence wherever he can, but it still feels phantom. He’s uncomfortable with the attention. It’s mismatched.

“Leave it to Lord Sixth!” a fresh-faced chunin gushes. Kakashi hopes to the heavens that this ridiculous path the kid has chosen won’t break him. It’s less likely now, at least.

“He’s shaping up to be a fine leader,” a shopkeeper says with an almost maternal pride. He hesitates, but smiles, and makes a mental note to ensure her business hasn’t taken damage when he gets to the office.

“He’s really amazing, isn’t he? What would we do without him?” A smitten young woman sighs wistfully. He’d saved her from an attack, and though it’d been effortless, it doesn’t seem that way to her. He chuckles, amused, but watches from a distance to check she and her friends enter their homes safely.

The walk home continues along the same vein. Well, to be fair, he’s able to fulfil his obligation for another night, and no lives have been lost - he understands their optimism. And grateful as he is for his luck and ability, living up to everyone’s expectations tonight, his overworked brain and body rarely grant him self-satisfaction for doing so. _It’s only safe until the next enemy_ , his body and mind know it so well that it’s etched in both. But still, the villagers are generous with their appreciation, like they refuse to let him forget for a second.

It’s not unfamiliar, but it doesn’t motivate him like it should. The words are like chains on his back, the pressure unrelenting as they continuously tighten. He knows he can’t crack, though. It’s his burden. He has to bear it. _He has to_. But he knows he won’t crack, either. Whilst Konoha and its protection has always been a weight on his shoulders - don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t begrudge it, but still, it is -her, her and that still ethereal little part of them both growing inside her don’t add to it. Instead it’s new strength to bear it, as cliche as that sounds. Sometimes she even enables him to shed it, if only for a little while.

 _I’ll be waiting, Kakashi._ Her gentle words echo, nudging at the inside of his skull. A soft reminder of her acquiescence, and her choice, her incredible choice, to encourage despite it. Her determination always surprises even him, quiet as it is. He’s both fuelled and unnerved by it - how stubborn, unwavering she can be in her kindness, her femininity. How she reignited his resolve with so few words. It bewilders him, in his life that seems much longer than it is, where he’s seen much more than he should. Strength he never knew before her. But he knows that they’re lucky, this time. Reality has been as kind as it can be (the sheer power of her invisible will, Kakashi’s sure, because God knows it’s never favoured him). But how much of a comfort will that be when the next fight inevitably comes along? _It’s never over,_ he remembers before he decides he wants to. _How long will she wait? Do you really think you deserve that?_ It claws at the inside of his skull.

Her expression rushes into his mind before the doubt and the anxiety settle fully in that destructive, familiar way. It quells it, like a panacea. Maybe the subconscious part of him _is_ getting used to her after all. He does admit that it was, somewhat, easier to leave, easier to fight, just _easier,_ when he was ambivalent about whether he lived or died. When he had no one - no one to hurt, no one to lose - as lonely as it was. Because her eyes, her beautiful eyes, the notion that he could leave them behind - sometimes it almost makes him begrudge his lifelong duty. Almost.

But how can he disappoint those big, optimistic eyes by giving into his own negativity? The way her lips quivered, her eyelashes fluttered and he knows she was about to cry, holding off for his sake, but she still smiled at him anyway. He knows he makes her suffer. And he knows he’s not worth the trouble. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, and he knows that she’s too kind tor realise it. He knows there’s a chance that any time he has with her is borrowed.

Even so, the thought of her - loving, acquiescing. How can he stop himself from becoming addicted, at least a little? And how could he fail her by not even trying to meet her halfway?

He approaches the front door. The adrenaline that got him here is depleting, and the lethargy replaces it. His body is even heavier. But it’s at least in part due to relief, not just exhaustion. He inserts his keys slowly - and he hears a gasp and light footsteps rushing closer.

 _Silly_ , Kakashi thinks, like he thinks every time. _She should get some sleep_.

Still, he closes his eyes and smiles, like he does every time. Her glow emanates to him, effortlessly, like it does every time.

It doesn’t matter if he’s worth it or not - he remembers, now that he’s home _-_ because she is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Okkaaaay so I was gonna leave this as a one-shot but I got some comments asking for a resolution and everyone's nice comments really encouraged me, so I had the thought to add something to this... Btw thank you so much guys, I can't tell you how happy everyone's support made me. Extra thanks to people in the comments, you guys are angels and thank you to everyone who kudos'd too :) to get such a kind (honestly too kind) reaction to the first thing I ever published is just amazing and overwhelming okay, I really appreciate it. 
> 
> But about this part, it's not *quite* a resolution I fear, which is why I wrote a 3rd part which hopefully is a little more satisfying than this. An actual reunion chapter wasn't flowing so easily at first but it did more when I thought about Kakashi and since i originally wanted to focus more on his thoughts in the first part I thought I could do so here. It's again, not super coherent or plot heavy (Kakashi just goes home lmao). But again, a lot of internal angst and conflict but a glimmer of hope. (I tried anyways. I'm actually not super happy with this, it was harder to get the same exact tone and style as the first part and I gave up, but I figured it was okay because the emotions here are slightly different?) 
> 
> I still think the first part can be read as stand-alone, if you don't like this one :)  
> don't copy paste etc (but again, why would you want to?) Again, any feedback/comments/criticism is welcome and appreciated and thank you again to everybody who commented and kudos'd before. You guys made me so happy <3 (I'm sorry my replies are always clogging everything up too, i'm just super excited to share this with you all and when i get feedback it's so heartwarming T.T)
> 
> I hope you guys read/enjoy the next and final part!


	3. iii. reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the waiting and its anguish is rewarded, and they can both breathe.

Dawn rolls in, though she barely notices. All this time, sat under the windowsill, dragging her legs out then retracting, hugging her knees like a child, feels stagnant. She gave up trying to sleep; experience reminds her that she doesn’t have a hope in hell of that. She never does on nights like tonight. How could she? When they’re all out there, when _he’s_ out there - as excruciating as this is, she knows she’s still the luckier one, if either of them can be considered so.

 _That’s right. You’re lucky._ She’s careful to remind herself, even as her fingers tremble. Even as her lips quiver and her eye sockets ache. Even as watching as nobody at all, nobody, absolutely _nobody_ approach their pathway home, has her heart palpitate so loudly that she thinks it might burst. But still. _All you have to do is wait._ That’s her duty too, she knows that. And she’s willing to take on her own to accompany his, small as it seems by comparison.

 _Duty._ She doesn’t know what to think about that word, not tonight. It’s a chain on her neck. It demands some people’s lives, or other commensurate sacrifice, and demands others’ acquiescence. Endurance, without reward, or any that seems worthwhile right now.

_Shinobi means one who endures._

Kakashi’s words float from the recesses of her mind so clearly that she thinks she just heard him. Almost. He’d said them far too eloquently (and far too indifferently for her liking), in an academy induction speech she’d sat in on. The children had been too excited to take much heed to his words, for which he’d been hesitant - though they weren’t as relevant to them anyway. They won’t grow up like he did, she’d reminded him. He’s suffered enough in their place to ensure that.

 _One who endures,_ the words echo again. If there’s anyone who epitomises that, it’s him. His stoicism, resilience, emotional fortitude, whatever you want to call it - it amazes her, she’s not so shameless as to try and deny it. Not when she’s grateful for it, when it’s anchored her. And she knows how crucial it’s been in his work, for the village, how it keeps it falling apart. How it’s kept _him_ falling apart. But there’s a part of it that hurts too. How much he takes it for granted, how _normal_ it is to him, how he just smiles and brushes it off. And she just lets him.

 _Because_ , she remembers, with an inhale so sharp that it’s almost a hiss, _shinobi don’t have a monopoly on endurance._

(What the hell is this, what the hell is she doing right now, what the fuck is this, if it’s not _enduring_?)

Either way, neither have it in them to demand acknowledgement, let alone a reward.

After one final, fruitless peek through the window, she gives up. For now, at least. She’s looked through it more times than she wants to admit. With a sigh, and the reticence she prides herself on, that she’s learnt from him, she drags herself up. The natural light is something akin to solace now, at least. It resonates with the warmth inside her, that, as she provides her energy for it to grow, it provides her with the strength and semblance she needs. Maybe even optimism.

(There’s a part of her that hopes, silly and ridiculously sentimental as it is, that something in her - just as there’s something in him - that makes it all worthwhile for them both. That makes him forget he’s spent his life this way, as a tool. An honourable and esteemed tool, a tool that’s saved countless lives, but a tool nonetheless.

Love, home, family - it’s egregious to think of it as a reward, and not a prerequisite. But for a self-described tool to accept it? It’s a miracle. So she won’t doubt it any longer)

Because positivity feels easier now - it’s embarrassing how sudden it is, how sudden it always is - when she feels a familiar chakra approach and the front door creaks open. Green, that’s the colour she’d give it. Determined and withstanding, like moss is. It pulls her back to earth, even as her negativity drags her down, and sometimes even when her dreams fly her too far up. It’s grounding, a soothing, eternal support that doesn’t quite efface everything from tonight, but makes it easier, much easier, to disregard it. She’s already rushing to him, after all. 

He closes the door behind him and slips off his shoes in the same, lazy movement. It’s typical, that he brushes it off like that, pretending that he’s _only_ come back from saving everyone (again), _only_ putting his life on the line (again), but she can hardly complain. Not when he’s back alive. When he’s safe, when she’s safe.

“I’m home,” Kakashi says lightly. Too lightly, she thinks, as she takes quick note of the dirt-speckled silver hair, the blood on his uniform, the tears in his sleeves.Too lightly.But though his eyes are worn, the crinkles that etch into their corners are a dead giveaway to how big his smile his under that damn mask.

His voice is husky, and though the exhaustion that laces it is obvious, there’s a comfort, a warmth behind it. A relief. A relief that compels her to his side in an instant. _He’s alive._ It’s all she can think as her inhibitions dissipate - to let him rest, to check if he’s hurt - and she wraps her arms around him.

He chuckles - partly in surprise, partly to mask the grunt that escapes as she presses against the bruises - and returns her. Suddenly, it’s easy. It’s easy to embrace her, breathe her in with the desperation a hypoxic breathes oxygen. She grants him permission to accept the lethargy - not just from tonight and its fights, but his entire life - and sinks into her affection.

(She’s too kind, this is too big of a burden, he knows it, but he can’t fight everything all the time. Especially not her.)

“Welcome back,” she whispers; a delayed response, but better late than never. She wishes she can sound as unfazed as him. But her voice is shaky, and she can’t maintain her composure like he can. Not in front of him, anyway.

(He doesn’t tell her that her inability to do so is more of an anchor for him than his ability ever could be for her, despite what she thinks.)

She trembles against his chest, and though she’s careful to muffle the sounds, the dampness that mixes now with the sweat and dirt on his clothes doesn’t escape his notice. Kakashi hesitates. Other times he’s quick to comfort her, even in his limited capacity - but tonight, he doubts even that. The proof right in front of him that she suffers as much as he does. That it’s at his hands leaves him all the more helpless.

So he ducks down, murmuring apologies and gratitude into her hair. It’s all he can do. He’s lucky that she endures it at all.

“I’m sorry-” she begins, attempting to find her equanimity, and Kakashi thinks his heart might burst. Like her as it is to apologise despite being the wronged one, it isn’t easy to accept. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Sorry to worry you.” At least he can say it, even if it’s not enough to assuage her pain or his guilt. But still, somehow, she looks up and smiles that genuine, selfless smile. So he can’t dwell on his shortcomings too long. “I should probably shower first. But you look about as tired as I do. Let’s go upstairs.”

She agrees, and pulls at that damn flak vest first. He lets her. She unzips it gently, the motion reminiscent of a more seductive scene that’s happened too many times, but something even more intimate replaces it now. She drags it off his broad shoulders and it slides off his back, dropping onto the floor unceremoniously. The characters for six and fire strike him, still demanding his attention for a split second - but this time, he refuses, and pays it no mind. They melt into the surrounding blood on the fabric instead.

 _Hokage_ , _Lord Sixth, honourable, hero,_ and finally, _shinobi -_ the words wash off his back just as easily as the clothes slip off. Fading further, vanishing somewhere far behind them until neither can see it anymore.

The chain on his back loosens and lifts, even if only temporarily, and he breathes a little easier now. They both do.

Just for a little while, but it’s enough.

For now, it’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And if you read all three parts, thank you so much again! I wasn't expecting to write anything more for the little original piece, and part of me wonders if all this was really worth adding to it.
> 
> I enjoyed writing the two subsequent parts though, even if they weren't as well-liked as the first.  
> But anyway, this is slightly more what I had in mind for a reunion then the last part? I have no idea whether it'll all read cohesively to you guys or not, but it does to me, in an abstract way at least, and I really hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I'm happy to say that this work is completely done! I'm still super new to sharing so I don't know what anyone expected, what you wanted etc but I'm really happy with the engagement and the feedback. On that note, thank you again to all those who commented and left kudos, and thanks for reading my first ever published work and being so kind about it.
> 
> As always i would love to hear your feedback on this, even if it's critical, and thanks so much for everyone's support. Without that i don't think I'd be in a position where i'm actually thinking of new things to write or that I'd have even added more to this. So thank you guys again :D 
> 
> (also let me know if there are mistakes lol my beta reader is myself)


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